


No time for caution

by varevare (varebanos)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Altean Lance (Voltron), Galra Empire, Galra Keith (Voltron), M/M, Politics, Sexual Harassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-06 23:33:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12221217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/varebanos/pseuds/varevare
Summary: When you're a Galra prisoner, the question is not whether or not you will survive, but how long.-"I have a business proposition for you." Lance ignored Keith's snort. "I want out, you want out. I can't operate any ships without having Galra genes, you can't get into any ships while trapped here. Let's help each other."





	No time for caution

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [To Freedom, We Run](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11374518) by [plumeriafairy14](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumeriafairy14/pseuds/plumeriafairy14). 



> Pfew this remix was a wild ride. Didn't expect it to get so long, but here it is! I hope it's an enjoyable read!
> 
> Written for the VLD Fanfiction Remix, based on plumeriafairy14's "To Freedom, We Run"

The sound of Lance's footsteps echoed down the darkened halls. It had taken a while, but he'd finally managed to bypass the motion sensors through his tablet -the only electronic he was allowed to access while at the castle. Oh, how he'd wished he'd paid more attention to his programming classes.

It was all the same to him now, though. He couldn't have chosen a better day to venture into the prison segment.

The new warrior, the Galra champion, was all he could have asked for.

His mere existence was a proof of just how vicious the Galra could be. Sending one of his own to that disgraced existence, fighting for his life night after night for entertainment of the ones higher up in the food chain. It was bad enough for prisoners, but when he saw the purple matt of hair appear on the coliseum that evening, Lance had to wonder if the Galra had any principles at all.

All the better, regardless. He needed a Galra, and a Galra he had, now. Or would soon.

Timing his steps carefully with the robots' schedule, he arrived to a nondescript door. It was time. With a bit of luck, his information would be correct. He had no way to know if the registers were updated, or if the one he was looking for was even alive. But he hoped. He'd been hoping for a while. If he didn't, he'd have surrendered long ago.

He opened the door.

His eyes took a while to adapt to the lower light, lower yet than the dim halls. Oh, how he missed the Castle of Lions. There was nothing inside but a figure lying on the floor -a mattress, a blanket, Lance couldn't tell. The creature seemed unconscious at first, perhaps dead, but after a minute Lance noticed its yellow eyes reflecting the light filtering behind himself.

The Galra was dangerous. Lance had seen him fight. From his tribune, he'd seen enough innocent prisoners get ripped apart by the same robeast the Galra defeated.

This was no innocent war prisoner. He was a killing machine, a beast among beasts.

He was what Lance needed.

Letting out a breath, he closed the door behind him mere seconds before the guards walked around the corridor's corner.

"What do you want?" the Galra rasped out. Lance didn't even know his name. The ones in the arena never got names.

"I'm not going to hurt you, don't worry. I'm here to help," Lance replied placatingly, making a gesture he knew the Galra found polite. His diplomacy training did pay out sometimes. "I got you treatment."

"You couldn't hurt me even if you tried." The Galra sat up. He seemed to struggle with his limbs, but Lance chose not to comment. "You're not even a soldier. What are you here for?"

"A little obtuse, aren't you? No wonder, after seeing how you got thrown around." Well. Diplomacy only worked so far. "I told you, I got medicine. And no, I'm no soldier. I'm here to help."

The Galra took a while to reply after that. Lance looked over at him carefully, seeing more details as his eyes adapted. They'd never be as good as the other's, even if he transformed, but they did the job.

And looking twice, he realized there was more to the warrior that it seemed. For starters, he was tiny. Every contender was dwarfed in the arena next to the robeasts, even the tallest Galra, but this one seemed shorter than Lance himself. And his features-

"You're not a full Galra, aren't you?" Lance asked him, seeing the other was unwilling to reply. "Is that why you're here?"

He was rewarded by a slow, offended blink.

"Aren't you some foreign governor, or whatever? Because that was rude as hell to ask," the Galra replied. "But no, I'm not. Now, who in the asteroids of Uka'na are you?"

"Don't speak so loud," Lance hushed him, glancing back towards the door. "I'm Lance. I'm here with a business proposition. I think you'll like it. What's your name?"

The Galra seemed to ponder his options for a moment before finally relenting. "Keith. And your name doesn't tell me much. What's a Lance, why are you dressed like a peacock, and what are you doing sneaking into my cell during Cycle B?" He paused. "Wait, don't tell me you're a fan. I've heard some fighters might get fans, but I didn't expect to get 'sneak into your room at night' fans after surviving by the skin of my teeth my first night."

"What? Oh, hell, no." Lance sighed. He'd hoped the Galra -Keith, yes- wouldn't be the type to ask questions, but he guessed things could have been worse. He hadn't called for the guards, at least. "I'm an Altean hostage. I'm officially prince Lotor's guest, except, you know, guests can leave. And I want to leave. But I need your help."

Keith sat up straighter and regarded him with a half smirk. "So you're the prince's slut? Well, I can't say I expected a visit from such a high ranking individual. How may I be of service?"

Lance kicked him straight in the shin, and continued talking as Keith yelped and bent over his leg in pain.

"Shut the fuck up, I'm no one's slut. He wished I were. I'm a diplomatic hostage, and as bad as things are, he can't actually force himself on me. He can make my life hell as long as I'm here and deny him, but he can't-"

His hushed rant was interrupted by a knock on the door. Both Lance and Keith froze in place.

"Is there an issue?" Came a metallic voice from beyond the wall. "A high level vibration was detected coming from this cell. It is forbidden to produce noise during Cycle B. State your reason."

Lance stared at Keith, his eyes wide. Well, there went all his plans. He'd never been a great diplomat anyway, and he had no reason to think he would have been a good heir.

Keith, still hunched over, seemed to ponder for a second before speaking.

"I tripped in the dark. Can't you get me some light in here? I can't see my own fur in here!"

"Negative. Surpass 50 dB again and you will be punished accordingly."

Keith fell silent again. A moment later, they heard the faint sound of steps moving away. Lance let out a shaky breath, trying to appear composed.

"Thanks."

"I gain nothing sending you off to the lion's mouth. Though you seem to have a liking to get there on your own." Keith tilted his head, regarding him with curiosity. As long as he'd spent among the Galra, Lance couldn't quite get used to those yellow eyes. "Are you planning to explain me why you came anytime soon? Or is this just getting to know a fellow prisoner?"

Lance sneered, a well practiced gesture in Lotor's court.

"I have a business proposition for you." Lance ignored Keith's snort. "I want out, you want out. I can't operate any ships without having Galra genes, you can't get into any ships while trapped here. Let's help each other."

"I scratch your back, you scratch mine?" Keith leaned against the back wall, regarding Lance carefully. The hard set of his jaw betrayed the apparent calm of his pose. He was a fighter through and through. It made Lance feel all the more self conscious under his bright, sheer fabrics, but he stared the other down all the same. "Why should I trust you?"

"Why not?" Lance shrugged, setting his hands on his hips. "Listen, I've been here long enough. You don't know how many combats I've seen in the arena. You're good, I'll grant you that. Good enough to last a week, perhaps a month -long enough for me to get you into a ship and sneak off into neutral space. But don't be fooled for a second. You're not good enough to last forever. Bigger and faster fighters have been ripped to shreds in front of my eyes. Sometimes, their blood splashed all the way to the podium."

The yellow glow in the other's eyes seemed to flicker at that. Good.

"You can't know that. The troops love a good spectacle. I'm a Galra, it could show our superiority-"

"Please, you're not stupid enough to truly believe that." Lance ran a hand through his hair. It caught in the -stupid- gold pins Lotor insisted he wore. No surprise Keith had thought him to be a jeweled whore. "You're here to die. The spectacle is simply an useful side effect. Otherwise, you'd be getting some treatment for that nasty cut in your shoulder."

Keith glared at him, but Lance could see the argument was tilting in his favor.

"Are you in, or not?" Lance insisted.

"What did you bring?" Keith sighed in defeat. "My whole arm is numb."

Lance smiled.

-

The way back to his room was, somehow, worse than the way to the cells. He didn't have any incriminating evidence on him anymore, but his heart wouldn't slow down. Perhaps, because he finally had something to lose. He crossed through the kitchens, the only other place besides the cells with something other than Galra and more Galra. It seemed that not even the most advanced robots had a sense of taste.

There was nowhere in the whole base with Alteans, though. He couldn't stop thinking of home, even as he exchanged a couple of complicit looks with the cookers he'd grown to know best.

He never thought he'd end up trapped where he was. Their ship had been in the fringes of Galra-controlled space, but still on the neutral zone. Lotor had broken their unspoken treaty, crushing their shields and threatening to obliterate them.

Obliterate the ship with the sole two heirs to the Altean crown in it. It would have meant an all out war with the Galra empire, but it would also have meant a devastating loss Altea might never recover from. Lance knew he'd acted correctly. He'd preserved the unstable peace treaty, he'd saved his sister's life, he'd gotten the ship home safely and infiltrated himself right in the heart of Lotor's court.

He also regretted it every single day. A merciful death sometimes felt better than this. The second he stepped out of the kitchens, he ran into a couple of soldiers. Actual Galra this time. Lascivious eyes, a whistle at his back, some comment Lance deliberately tuned out.

He wasn't his sister, he was no commander of armies, but he still was a warrior. And right at that moment, he'd give up an army for some opaque fabric. Or for wringing Lotor's neck with his own two hands. Either would do.

But of course, speaking of the devil.

"Ah, Lance, you're finally here. I was starting to worry." Lotor rose elegantly from his sprawl on the balcony in front of Lance's door. "Where did you run off to? Not flirting with my soldiers, I would hope?"

His tone had just the right balance of sugar and disdain to let Lance know he could not care less. Without awaiting Lance's reply, he opened Lance's door and stepped into his room before Lance, not leaving room for any doubts regarding who did the place belong to.

"Come in, don't make me wait any longer," he called Lance from the inside. "Do I really have to lock you in again?"

Lance huffed and walked inside, taking long strides that were at odds with the delicate fabric stretching around his form. It didn't stop Lotor from giving him an appreciative once over once he stepped in.

"What do you want, Lotor?"

"Why, can't I just be here to see you? And it's such a nice sight, too." Lotor bit his lower lip as he stepped closer, pushing the door shut. "I'm glad you've started to appreciate my gifts."

Lance's silence seemed to encourage Lotor, because he took another step and set a hand on Lance's waist. The shirt did nothing to shield him from the contact, and Lance had to repress a shiver that, he knew, would be misconstrued as interest. He wanted to push Lotor away, spit on his face, threaten to cut his hand if he dared lay it on Lance again.

He couldn't. He'd spent his whole time in the base testing boundaries, and the line he walked on was a thin one. He'd crossed it more than once, and it hadn't ended well for him. He still had some scars to prove it, despite all of the Galra medical advancements.

He couldn't risk it, now that his freedom felt so close.

"You didn't leave me anything else to wear." Lance was proud of how little his voice shook.

"Oh, I'm sure you could have managed somehow if you really wanted to." Lance did, but it had ended lower on his list of priorities. Lotor's smirk just grew wider. "Seems like you're starting to accept your place here."

Lotor's hand started to move lower, deliberately running down to settle itself on Lance's hip. There was only so much Lance could take.

"I'm here as a hostage. Not a member of your harem." Lance took a step back, relief exploding in his chest when Lotor let him.

"Nonsense. You're a guest," Lotor chuckled, raising his hands. "A most appreciated one. It's just about time you started to warm up to your host."

"Lotor, what do you want? I'm tired."

"Oh, I am sure." Lotor stepped closer again, but this time he made no attempt to put his hands on Lance. "I just wanted to see you, though. You barely paid me any attention during today's match."

"I was hoping to see a Galra die. But I was disappointed."

It was a risky thing to say, but Lotor just threw his head back and laughed. Lance awaited patiently until he stopped.

"I love to see how feisty you are. I'm afraid you might stay disappointed, though. The show was popular among the troops. But we just sent an expedition towards the Balmera system. Who knows, they might return with some fresh Altean blood to spill on the arena, what do you say?"

Lance paled.

"That's not Galra territory yet! You can't do that!"

"I can't? Perhaps you should start convincing me harder," Lotor replied, all sweetness gone from his voice. And finally, blissfully, despite everything, he turned away. "It's much too late for you to stay up. Wouldn't want your beauty to suffer from it. Sleep, now."

Lotor crossed the bedroom's door and closed it behind himself. Lance heard the telltale beep of the lock activating. He should be worried -about the lock, about the expedition- but it got shadowed by the relief of solitude. Not thinking it twice, he ripped the delicate shirt of his frame and threw it carelessly on the floor, stepping on it as he made his way to the attached bathroom.

The floor, the bed sheets, even the plants were dark with Lotor's colors. Smelled like him, too. Lance's assigned bedroom was one of the most luxurious places in the whole base, and Lance hated every inch of it. He set the water as hot as it would go and set himself to scrub Lotor's touch out of his skin.

His mind wandered back to the small, darkened cell that hosted Lance's hopes behind a pair of yellow eyes among black hair. He'd take it over his own room anytime. Galra as it was, it was clear Lotor's presence had never touched that place.

Lance would happily take it.

-

Cycles went by. Lance's life stayed mostly the same. He wandered around the base as far as he was allowed, he politely avoided Lotor's advances, he spent hours cleaning himself after every time. And it seemed to get harder as time went, Lotor's touches becoming bolder the more reluctant Lance was to test his temper. Because he couldn't do that, not anymore. Not when he had a plan, and something to lose.

Every time there was a battle in the arena it was the same. As the main source of entertainment in the fleet, everyone who could manage to attend did. The spectacle was gruesome at best, with dozens of prisoners being crushed and mangled every single time.

And yet, it gave Lance hope. Because every time the Galra -Keith, he remembered- was taken out, he survived. Every. Single. Time.

"Aren't you happy to be up here with me instead of down there, fighting along those losers?"

Lotor's hand was heavy on Lance's thigh. Knowing what the event entailed, Lance had gone out of his way to wear his less revealing, harsher outfit. Which didn't mean much. Lotor didn't provide a great deal of choice in the matter.

"You couldn't have put me down there even if you wanted to. It'd be a political disaster, and you're not stupid enough to do that."

"I'm so charmed that you esteem my intelligence so highly."

Lotor's hand moved to his inner thigh. Lance crushed it between his legs.

"I thought we were here to watch the spectacle, not chat."

Lotor, with a small frown, shook his hand after freeing it and dropped it carelessly over the top of Lance's seat. As these were bolted on to save space, there was no way for Lance to move it away from him. He just leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees as if he were immersed in the massacre in front of him.

"I didn't know you were so interested in this kind of thing," Lotor's voice said at his side, but Lance was no longer paying attention. The heavy door connecting the arena to the dungeons was getting raised, and out came a slim prisoner dragging his feet.

Keith.

He stared down the monster pacing in front of him before ignoring it completely in favor for checking on a nearby fallen comrade. The Galra never cleaned down the injured and dead until the end of the show, instead leaving them out as some sort of macabre decoration for the matches to come. Lance was certain it caused the number of fatalities to rise unnecessarily. When he raised that objection to Lotor, he'd just laughed and replied that that was the whole point of it.

Lance resolutely ignored Lotor's hand brushing the nape of his neck as Keith tried to find some pulse on the body to no avail. Lance wished he could tell him not to bother, that his own safety was more important. The prisoner wasn't even a fellow Galra.

Yet, even cheering for him could be too much. Although cheering on the prisoners wasn't unheard of, and in fact the champions could gain quite a bit of fame among the Galra, if Lance wanted to ensure Keith's safety ignoring him was the only way. Lotor watched his every move, and the last thing Lance could afford was having his ticket out of there targeted by a jealous suitor.

And Lotor would be jealous. Oh, he would be. Even from the distance, the sharp lines and determined expression of Keith's face could be seen and admired clearly. Lance wished he had time to do that.

His mind was starting to behave weirdly among so many Galra. The next time Lotor's hand drifted down his spine, Lance made the effort of looking away and turning towards the man.

"Is there something you want?" he asked Lotor, trying to hide some of the coldness from his voice.

"I'm afraid my father requires my presence urgently." Lotor pointed at one of his generals, who had walked into their section without Lance even realizing her presence. "I will visit you later for a chat, though. You're right, this is not the place for it. Stay at your quarters for the rest of this cycle, I'll drop by soon."

It wasn't a request. Lance nodded curtly and watched them move away. His eyes didn't return to the arena until the two were completely out of his sight.

When he looked back, Keith was standing triumphant, covered in strange, glimmering blood. It could practically be smelt from the stands. Lance let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding as he saw Keith attempt to move towards another prisoner only to be restrained by a druid. The announcer was making up some nonsense about the champion thirsting for blood even as Keith was dragged away. Perhaps Lance would be able to tell him about the fate of the other prisoners.

Except, of course, Lotor was coming. The robotic soldiers assigned to keep an eye on him motioned for Lance to get up, and he had no choice but to follow them straight to his room. No detours allowed. The loud voices from the arena slowly faded away as they walked down the corridor, set on a different level from the main gates the rest of the public used. As if Lance had any hope of sneaking away like that. Every single soldier knew him as Lotor's whore.

His sole satisfaction was the sharp zipping noise his room's door made after him, separating him from his jailers even if just momentarily.

It was impossible to forget where he was. Everything in the room shared the color scheme of the rest of the ship. Even the space outside the big windows had a purple tint to it. His rooms back in Altea were always spacious, but utilitarian, clean white with no artifice. This was all decadent luxury, better suited for a harem than for a guest room.

Though of course, that was what Lotor had intended them to be. Shuddering, Lance moved towards the adjacent bathroom, hoping to wash the stench of the arena off himself.

It didn't work, of course. It never worked. Every single thing in the ship stank of Galra. Lance had always loved his long baths, but since he'd first arrived there, he had turned them into short, utilitarian things. Hard to enjoy anything as a hostage.

The moment he stepped outside back into the room, a knock rattled on the door.

Not Lotor, then. Lotor would never knock.

"Who is it?" Lance asked warily, wrapping his robe more tightly around himself.

"Young master, it's Ra'eh. Just wanted to tell you Lotor will drop by in no time at all, his meeting just ended."

"Thanks, Ra'eh," Lance mutters through the door, immediately hearing the steps moving away from it.

As terrible as it was, it was lucky that the Galra had other captives working for them. Lance wasn't sure he'd manage to survive without their help, as difficult as it was to get any. It was by pure chance that he'd managed to form closed ties with a couple of them, and it proved itself useful quite often.

Like just now, for he was in no shape to receive Lotor in just a robe. As much as the Galra heir would enjoy that.

When the door slipped open again, Lance was ready to face him. Not a hair out of place, his sheer clothes at least fully done up.

"My dear Lance. I see you're always ready for my visits."

"I like to look my best of you," Lance said dryly. He could not afford to anger Lotor in any way, least he would not be allowed to wander freely anymore. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"I just missed you, is it so strange? We barely got to talk during the show. Everyone was so distracted with the new champion, and then I had to leave, but I couldn't bear to spend the day without enjoying your presence so little."

Lance tensed up minutely at the mention of the other Galra, but hoped it did not show. "Well, here I am."

"Here you are, yes. And my father is satisfied, and the champion was injured when the soldiers took him out the arena, so I can be certain neither would interrupt us. Now wouldn't that be a spectacle? That savage breaking here just to annoy me?" Lotor's airy laugh sent a shiver down Lance's spine. There was no way for him to know if he meant anything with those words. "But now I have you all for myself."

Lance simply looked at Lotor.

"Weblum got your tongue?" Lotor smiled and stepped closer, reaching to pin some hair behind Lance's ear. The intimate contact made him want to step back, but Lotor's other hand latched onto his wrist before he could. "You know, if you keep rejecting my attention like this, things won't be pretty."

"I don't need to accept your attentions. I'm a prisoner, not a who-"

Lotor's grip got more painful.

"A prisoner? Do you want to be treated as such? There's plenty of empty cells below the arena, but I doubt you'd enjoy the jumpsuit and the Druids probing at you." Lotor pulled Lance closer from his wrist, making their chests press together. Lance had to tilt his neck up to look at him, Lotor's armor rough against his neck. "You're being treated awfully well and haven't done much to deserve it. Some day I'm gonna lose my patience, and that day you're gonna regret not opening your legs more easily."

As much as he hated to admit it, Lance knew he looked scared now. Having a choice that was no choice at all felt worse than getting thrown into the arena to be eaten by the monsters.

The fear in his face, however, seemed to be what Lotor was looking for. His grip and demeanor softened out of the blue, making Lance stumble backwards until he hit a table. He gave Lance an appreciative once over once they were separated by a couple steps.

"Purple has always looked nice on you. I wish you wore it more often." He smiled, and his smile was all the more terrifying with the words that came with it. "I just want what's best for you, Lance. I'll see you tomorrow. Sweet dreams."

Lance was still catching his breath when Lotor left a moment later. And many moments afterwards.

For Voltron's sake, he wanted out.

And out was on a pod, with a Galra pilot.

Lotor said the Galra got injured.

Shit.

Putting on the coat that covered him the most, Lance stormed outside. He barely had a mind to check the patrols, managing simply out of habit at this point. The servants he walked by ignored him as he stepped inside the supply room closer to his own, grabbing a couple med gels that, he hoped, would help. Not knowing exactly what kind of injures had Keith sustained he could do little else.

Sneaking into the holding cells again was easier than usual. Lance realized as he went that there were less guards around simply because the prisoners were dwindling down, dead at the arena or the experiment table. Until another batch arrived, there was no sense on spending extra resources there.

It made Lance sick.

More sick when he heard Keith's raspy breath on the cot inside the cell. Lance stepped in making sure to be as quiet as possible, but even when he set his hand on Keith's forehead the other showed no signs of recognition.

It was then when he saw the ugly burns on his leg and back. Clearly from laser shots, from refusing to obey and trying to help the other prisoners when the show was over. They hadn't even bothered to change his clothes, much less provide proper attention. It seemed that they weren't all that invested in the current champion, having left him there to live or die as his nature saw fit.

Well, they wouldn't notice Lance's hand in the matter either. Pushing Keith down, he started to work. The gels spread easily on Keith's skin, being clearly designed to help Galra and no one else. Lance removed the fabric around the wound as carefully as he could and covered them completely, feeling Keith's muscles relax under the ministrations. Analgesic, apparently. Disinfectant too, Lance hoped.

"Why are you here?" Keith's voice asked him weakly as Lance set the finishing touches on his handiwork.

"To save your ass, you idiot, since you're so busy trying to save others to take care of yourself." Lance refused to acknowledge the relief he felt when he heard Keith's voice. "Don't move too much, if you fuck up the patches I'll kill you. How are you feeling?"

"Like the mother ship ran me over," Keith joked, reaching blindly with a shaking hand towards Lance. Lance took it and pressed it against his own cheek, trying to slow down his own breath. He hadn't realized every intake sounded like a sob. "I'm sorry to have worried you. I still want to help with your plan."

Even Keith, half delirious from the blood loss, could tell how fucked up he was.

"Then, for all that's holy, be more careful. We can help way more people from outside a cell."

“What if I can't?” Keith sighed heavily. “I lost contact. No one's rescuing me, I knew what I was getting into. I can't even help the other prisoners here. I don't even know what I would do once I leave.”

Lance glared at him.

“Dude. With your skill and your looks, you can do anything you want after we leave. And if what you want to help prisoners, you'll do that. I'm sure you can join a rebel group, anyone would be happy to have you!”

Keith seemed to consider Lance’s outburst for a moment, then smiled. “Yeah, you're right. I’ll figure out how to return to the blades."

"The-" Lance scoffed."The blades of Marmora? Should have known."

"You know them?" Keith attempted to sit up, his arms trembling under him. Lance immediately pushed him down. "I don't know how to contact them anymore, since my cover got blown up we completely-"

"Don't get overexcited! Yes, of course I know them. We've been trying to ally with them for ages. The most we've got is a communication system set up. We don't work together, but we exchange info. It's a recent thing, I'm not even sure it's still going."

Keith smiled weakly at him. Despite the purple, despite the fangs, it tugged at Lance's heart.

"What would I do without you?"

"Man, you're so out of it. What, indeed," Lance grumbled, sitting down on the floor. He resolved to keep an eye on Keith until the other fell asleep.

As far as the cells Lotor threatened him with, this one wasn't so bad.

-

This was the plan:

Get supplies to last the long trip to the limits of Galra controlled space.

Find out the best pad for a pod they could take on their way out.

Get Keith out.

This wasn't the plan:

Getting cornered by Lotor on your way back from detailing the plan to Keith.

"Hey, gorgeous." His arms were framing the sides of Lance's head, pinning him against the wall. "Where are you going with such a hurry?"

"Heard you were in the area, I was hoping to avoid you," Lance drawled out, because even with a heartbeat loud enough to shake the whole ship he wouldn't be able to control his big fat mouth. "What do you want, Lotor?"

"To see you off. I hope you enjoyed the walk, because you're not going to be able to wander the corridors this freely anytime soon."

Lance froze. Was Lotor sending him elsewhere? But he needed- No, he would figure it out. Any other ship would have worse soldiers, less control. He wouldn't have to dodge Lotor every second.

He wouldn't be able to get Keith's help. He'd have to leave Keith behind. He  _ couldn't _ leave Keith behind, now. Keith had risked his neck before covering for him, and Lance had promised. An Altean prince didn't break his promises. Not even during war time. Especially not during war time.

"I'm heading on a campaign at the borders." Lotor had kept talking. "There's some unrest near Balmera, seems your big sister has been meddling where she shouldn't. Of course, after I leave, you're gonna stay inside. Who knows what trouble you'd get up to while I'm not here to keep an eye on you? It's merely a security measure, of course. The ship is less secure with less troops."

Lance was going to die young at this rate, but it'd be the stress and not a bullet that would do him in.

"Oh, shame. Was hoping to continue dodging your advances daily. Are you leaving anytime soon? I'd like to take off the lock in my underpants."

"Lovely. I'll miss your charm." Stepping back, Lotor took Lance's hand and pressed a kiss against it. "I'm leaving in a couple vargas, so enjoy the little freedom you have left. Perhaps I could be swayed a bit if you were to kiss me goodbye, though."

Lance pondered it for a moment. If Lotor really wanted to put him on house arrest, of sorts, he would have a bad time moving ahead with his plan, and with him away it'd be the perfect moment. Otherwise, he doubted he'd have the time to pull it off. A campaign could take up to a phoeb, Balmera was nowhere close to the mothership, and Lance wouldn't leave Keith fighting for his life in the arena for that long.

On the other hand, kissing Lotor. Eugh.

"Alright."

"Alright?" Lotor seemed more surprised than Lance himself felt. "I'm shocked."

"I thought you wanted a kiss. Do you simply want to discuss it instead until it's time for you to go?"

"Not at all. A deal is a deal."

"I know. So kiss me." Lance didn't want to think about it happening. How long could a kiss be, anyway? Ten ticks, tops?

"Impatient, huh?" Lotor's face was very close. His breath was warm and humid in front of Lance's face. "Don't mind if I do."

Ten ticks was a long time. As clean and well presented as Lotor might be, Lance couldn't help but to think of lukewarm tea. Of slimey fruits left out for too long. Of Lotor smiling as another prisoner got their skull based against the arena walls. Lance stood still as Lotor's lips moved against his.

Lotor didn't seem to take offense. He was smirking when he moved away. Lance's lips burned.

"See, that wasn't so bad, now, was it?" Yes it was, Lance didn't say. "Perhaps we can continue when I return."

"Perhaps." Lance stepped around Lotor so his back was to the corridor instead of to the wall. "But a deal is a deal, so, if you excuse me, the kitchen has some honey tarts with my name in it."

"Of course, don't let me keep you."

Lance nodded and walked away as fast as his too tight pants would allow him. Feeling Lotor's eyes on his back was enough to almost make him dry heave. He endured it and made his way to the kitchens without thinking, simply because he told Lotor he would.

Once there, he didn't know what to do, and stood there for a couple of minutes until Ra'eh walked up to him and led him gently to one side. It was then that he noticed the hurried movement around him, kitchen servants running back and forth incessantly. Not cooking, but from storage and back.

"They're preparing Lotor's expedition." Ra'eh looked at him like he was a lost animal. Lance very much felt like one. "Are they taking you too?"

"No, I'm staying here," Lance finally replied after a moment. He lowered his voice. "Lotor said I'd be able to move around as usual, so, with some luck, not for long. But no, I'm not going with him."

Ra'eh frowned and seemed to want to speak before changing her mind. She nodded to herself and took a step back, speaking normally.

"The whole base is busy getting supplies ready. They're all over the Alpha-Gamma hangars." Ra'eh didn't look at him as she spoke. "I just got word that there's a dozen of ships with FTL drives that are being left behind in the Sigma hangar. They're going to be sent on a separate mission tomorrow."

Lance straightened up, feeling the world around him come into focus.

"Are they now?"

"Any time is too long to stay here," Ra'eh replied, staring blindly ahead. Lance wished he could hug her.

"How can I ever repay you?"

"I had a son, once. He's dead now." She turned around sharply and walked away, as if hoping to escape from the words that left her lips.

It crushed Lance to admit he didn't know anything about her. Not her home planet, not her life before the Galra. He didn't know, and he didn't have time to learn it.

He couldn't trust Lotor's word. It was time to go.

Lance crossed the kitchens, as determined as Ra'eh had been an instant earlier, straight to his rooms. He walked past soldiers on the main corridors, servants and soldiers, none of which spared him a glance. The exotic prince with the suggestive clothing was by now nothing more than an expensive vase in the corner. Something to gape at, but that no one paid any mind when they actually had something to do.

There were way more guards than usual in the area. It was obvious they had been brought from other areas, all the activity to port. It was certainly the reason Lance had been kept in the dark for so long. Even the lowest servants would have been warned earlier than Lance himself had been.

All but, possibly, the prisoners. Lance would have to go down himself to bring the news, then.

Finally, his rooms. And in front of them, two robots. It seemed there was one place Lotor had decided to not skim on security for. Armed and perfectly still, neither paid Lance any particular attention, seemingly content to stand with their weapons in a relaxed hold.

They were still metallic, quintessence powered monsters.

They would have to do.

Lance kept his posture loose and relaxed, not allowing his head or arms twitch as he approached. He didn't want the AIs any reason to check on his vitals. There was no way his heart rate wouldn't raise alarm. He walked so far as to open the door, then reached in a single, smooth movement to the guard whose weapon was already pointed towards him and, circling him to get out of the shooting range, fired it towards the other robot.

It fell heavily to the ground, its circuits never intended as much more than cannon fodder, and Lance struggled with the other for what felt like ages. Robots were much different to fight than organic forms. With no weak points to debilitate him, Lance's only hope held onto breaking something vital enough to make it stop functioning altogether.

It happened finally when he kneed the side of the robot's waist, sending its joints haywire after crashing the heat sink system. He was never so thankful for all the training Allura forced onto him against the gladiator, nor for how little engineering innovations the Galra had developed on its own since the beginning of the war. The arms holding onto the weapon went completely loose, and Lance tied together the remaining ends by blowing its main processing unit with another shot.

The corridor was then silent save for Lance's heavy breathing. There was a chance the alarm hadn't gone off yet, or at least not registered as a priority, but it was a chance Lance couldn't afford to take. He set off towards the lower arena area, avoiding the kitchens and all the surrounding areas that had anything Lotor's expedition might possibly require.

Ironically enough, that meant taking main corridors the soldiers used to get in and out of the spectacle instead of the minor service routes Lance had grown accustomed to. His steps floated on the empty spaces, dull to his own ears. His heartbeat seemed louder. It was one thing to be seen as the Prince's pet, and another to be the Prince's pet with a weapon and covered in black oil.

The prison had even less security than it had been keeping the previous days. Lance only had to shot a robot - singular, not even a patrol - before reaching Keith's doorway.

"We're leaving," he announced as he stepped in.

Keith shot up to his feet immediately, giving Lance an alarmed once over.

"We are?"

"Yes. Lotor's leaving, everyone's busy, we're never getting another occasion like this. We need to go."

"Fuck." Keith looked around his meager cell. "Dude. I'm not ready. I haven't even-"

"What, need to pack?"

"I'm not  _ mentally _ ready, dumbass!" Keith huffed, seemingly deflating. Then Lance noticed his hair slowly settling down, having poofed up with the outburst.

"It's not difficult. Run, slip through, sail away through space. Aren't you a decent pilot?"

"I'm the  _ best _ pilot. Worthy of a prince," Keith replied, confidence back in his voice. It made Lance smile for the first time since before he spoke to Lotor. "Just pointing out that you're a mad man."

"Pot, kettle." Lance shrugged, finally getting a smile back.

"I suppose you don't have another one of those for me?"

"There's another body outside. Now hurry."

Keith nodded and they left the cell, heading down in the opposite direction Lance had taken to get there.

"Wait, where are we going? I thought all the hangars were past the arena's entrance."

"Those are just the main hangars, we're heading to a secondary one, no need to cross the arena again. Heard they were storing some nice stuff in there for today."

"Nice," Keith replied, and kicked a Galra on the head when he walked around the corner. He, too, crumbled to the floor.

"What the hell, Keith?" Lance yelped, jumping back. "What did you even get a gun for?"

Keith turned to give him an apologetic look.

"I panicked? I'm not used to having one of..." he lifted the gun experimentally, "these."

Lance sighed. "Well, nothing to do about it now. It worked. Just, stop trying to look so damn cool all the time, okay?"

Keith raised an eyebrow. Lance didn't like what the eyebrow implied, so he set himself to search the fallen soldier. He took every device that looked like it might be of use and shoved him to the wall, where he wouldn't be seen as easily with the dim light in the halls.

"Are you feeling him up?"

"Are you jealous?" Lance grumbled. "You could at least help, you know."

"I'm keeping watch."

It wasn't a no. Lance wished he had the time to question it.

"Alright, let's get a move on," he said instead, pinning what he assumed was a name card to his belt. "It's all straight down. Or, like, should be."

Keith nodded and set off in a trot. They passed more empty halls and big gates for what seemed hours until they arrived to the one with the correct label. There was a key reader to the side and a hand scan. Lance got the name card out and gestured at Keith.

"Keith, touch it."

"What? Why do I have to touch it? You have the card."

"Because I seriously doubt this name card opens a hangar door. Can't you just trust me?"

"If it's a trap I'll haunt you," Keith replied, but touched the door. Some lights appeared to the side, indicating the card reader was active now. "Seem you're going to have to try it anyways."

Lance groaned, pressing his forehead against the wall. So close, yet so far. His only potential key to freedom was a piece of plastic with an unflattering picture of a random guy. He almost wanted to delay it, if only to hold onto the hope for a bit longer.

"Hey," Keith voice came from behind, softer than usual. Lance felt a hand settle softly on his shoulder. "We're going to get through these doors, I promise. Even if we have to blow it up. We got this far, didn't we?"

Lance glanced over his shoulder. Keith's small, tentative smile was all Lance himself was supposed to be acting like. Encouraging, inspiring- it wasn't time to curl up and cry.

"Yeah, you're right. Let's do this."

He slid the card through the reader.

The door opened.

And behind it, Lotor awaited.

"Oh, fuck," Keith breathed out. Lance couldn't help but to agree.

The hangar was a broad, soul less place. There was even less decoration than usual in Galra ships, and the technology was clearly outdated in comparison with the main hangars. Not that Lance had seen them more than once, and not that it mattered. What mattered were the line of ships in working condition extending in front of them, all but ready for take off the moment their pilot boarded them.

What mattered most, however, were the hundred meters between the gate and the ships.

Lotor was alone, apparently ready to confront Lance privately. He was breathing heavily. The hurry, or perhaps the anger. His own private shuttle lay to the side, the cockpit still open and, Lance was sure, the engine still burning. Their legs were never a competition against it.

"Well, well. Seems the kitty wanted to play. And it even brought some roadkill along."

"Upset about losing two toys at once?" Lance toyed the waters. Perhaps Lotor hadn't expected Keith to be there. He had his sword at hand, but no guards in the area. Either ships were about to arrive, or Lotor hadn't wanted to admit he hadn't been able to keep the Altean prince in line. "Don't worry, I'll be sure to send my regards."

"You're not sending anything at all," Lotor replied, raising the sword to Lance's chest. Even if Lotor hadn't said anything, soldiers will surely notice the disruption. They were running out of time. "Where do you think you're going? Do you seriously believe you can get through our whole fleet without getting shot down? Reach the Altean border before we obliterate it to bits?"

"I can," Keith snapped, taking a step forward. All of Lance's attempts to push him back telepathically were useless. Not that Lance had ever had that talent, but he needed to try. "I can outrun your fancy pod without even breaking a sweat. You'd lose us before the edge of the system. We should test it, in fact."

Lance was ready to hit his head against the wall again. Keith had gotten Lotor's attention. Keith was not prepared to deal with Lotor's attention.

"What, you think you can go anywhere with him? Don't make me laugh. You're a blight to the Empire. Alteans won't take you in, they will shoot you on sight. This  _ prince _ is a treacherous little shit. How do you think he even made it this far?" Lotor snarled, then turned at Lance. The sword hadn't moved from Lance's sternum. "I knew something was up when you let me kiss you. Can't believe it took me this long to realize the kind of snake you were."

"Funny, coming from you. You play with everyone's lives like they're yours to do with as you wish. People don't belong to you," Keith snapped. Turns out there was no stopping him from asking for a fight. "You're just upset you couldn't get your dick where you wanted. Everyone knows that."

There it was. Lance had seen that expression on Lotor's face a couple times beforehand. Both had ended with major loss of lives.

Lotor's sword swung away from Lance, and, in a single circular movement, came back towards Keith. Keith, who wore no more armor than Lance himself, and who couldn't even hold a gun correctly. Keith, who had stood up for Lance in front of the man he should've feared the most.

Lance raised his gun and shot at Lotor. The force of the impact against his chest plate pushed him back only minutely, but it gave Keith the necessary margin to dodge the blow. Clearly unharmed, Lotor straightened back up and turned towards Lance, snarling. This wasn't one of the slow fights with the cold, calculating mind Lance was used to. This was a fight to the death in the arena.

It was Keith's area.

Faster than the eye could follow, Keith delivered a blow to Lotor's midsection below the plate's edge, using the gun as a melee weapon. He dropped it right after, sliding behind the other so that Lotor was effectively stuck between the two. Lance took a step back and holstered the weapon against his shoulder.

The light next to his face informed him the weapon needed another ten ticks to recharge another shot. Lance cursed and squatted, barely avoiding getting his neck sliced in two. He rolled backwards, seeing Keith attempt to take Lotor to the ground as he stood back up.

8 ticks now.

Lotor managed to change the hold and used his size advantage to turn Keith over, sending him tumbling gracelessly onto the ground some meters away from him.

5 ticks.

Looking between Lance and Keith, Lotor seemed to decide the nearest target was the better, striding confidently to give the coup de grace. Perhaps he just didn't consider Lance too dangerous - he was still wearing the see through clothes, after all. Lotor kicked Keith's stomach as the other attempted to get up and raised his sword to his neck. They weren't far, but Lance's hands were shaking.

2 ticks.

"Any last words?" Lotor asked. It was a show. A show for Lance, apparently. It was him that Lotor was looking at, gun and all. He didn't seem to think Lance would shoot.

"Go to hell," Keith spat, his eyes not moving away from Lotor's head.

The shot went through Lotor's skull smoothly. Time froze around them, the only different from an instant ago being the button-sized burn in the middle of his high forehead. The body still stood, as if held up by the Galra prince's ego alone.

Then the moment passed, the body crumbled, and the alarms blared.

" _ ALERTING ALL THE SHIP. TWO PRISONERS HAVE BEEN FOUND TO BE MISSING. ALL TAKEOFFS ARE CANCELLED. INITIALIZING SHUTDOWN PROCEDURES.” _

“Well, so much for that,” Lance breathed out. “We’re fucked.”

Keith was on his feet the next second. He stepped over Lotor's body and ran straight to Lance.

"Don't stay there, we have to go!"

"Go where? We're not getting out of here alive. I couldn't descalate, I should have avoided this somehow, now I'm getting us both killed, everyone must be heading this way right now-"

"Lance!" Keith grabbed both his shoulders and shook him sharply. "There was nothing else you could've done. And you saved my ass. Now I'm gonna save yours. But for all that's holy, we need to  _ run _ right out of here."

Lance barely nodded and Keith was already dragging him from one arm, away from the mess and straight to the nearest ship. The shapes around them seemed to move like a blur. Lance only thought of avoiding tripping on his own feet as they got there and Keith practically threw him into the back of the cockpit. The controls lit up the moment Keith sat on the pilot's chair, although Lance didn't have it in him to congratulate himself for his foresight. He dragged himself up to watch the screens as Keith maneuvered the pod through the hangar.

"Do you think there were alarms connected to Lotor's vitals or what?" he ventured, seeing the opening between the outer gates get narrower with each tick.

"Doubt it, I think we just got unlucky." Keith didn't look away from the controls. "Or lucky. Depends."

"Depends of what?"

"Of whether or not we make it. Hold onto something."

Lance held onto Keith's chair, and the next moment his feet were leaving the floor. Next thing he saw, they were floating in the vacuum outside the mothership. Other pods were racing towards them, apparently following the recall order, and beyond them, a slow growing force field threatened to swallow them all.

"Are you okay?" Keith asked him, looking up with his giant yellow eyes. He actually seemed more concerned about Lance's well being than about the hundreds of warships heading their way. It was almost cute.

"Yeah, I'll be, don't worry about me." The moment his legs stopped shaking, Lance took the copilot seat and put on all the belts. He'd be more comfortable wearing a padded pilot outfit, but it was hardly a time to get picky. "That was a smooth start. I didn't think you'd be this good."

Keith snorted, this time turning to look at Lance. "Me? I'm the best pilot in Galra space. You can relax now."

"I definitely can't relax now. Haven't you seen those!" Lance extended his arms wildly towards the screen. "They're coming for us!"

Almost as if following Lance's words, the ship shook when a shot reached its hull. Keith turned away from him and set up the shields. Lance watched in horror how three drones assembled in formation right ahead.

"I got this," Keith insisted, and the sudden start threw Lance against the back of his seat. He closed his eyes and prepared to die.

When he found himself still breathing some moments later, he opened his eyes. The ship's controls were all flashing, Keith's hands flying over them. However, as much as Lance looked, he couldn't find any  _ critical engine failure _ warnings flashing or any short among the screens. They were close to the barrier now. It seemed to be about 90 percent down, and more ships were chasing them. Practically a swarm. Lance was certain if the mothership sent any more after them they'd start crashing against one another.

Not that Keith appeared to be bothered by it. His face was twisted in concentration, but he wasn't even breaking a sweat. His hands didn't shake, moving with so much precision he might as well have been part of the machinery. Not like Lance's. Lance's hands had been shaking since he blew Lotor's brains out.

Lance's stomach twisted and he looked back at the screens. The pod went on a loop around two ships, doing a 360 degree turn the others were unable to follow, ultimately crashing against a sentry drone. Inside, it felt like a smooth ride. If Lance didn't look at the screens, the shots zipping through and the rest of the structures flying past them, he could easily have believed they were just planning over some planet's atmosphere.

Keith seemed to notice Lance looking at him, because he turned his face minutely towards him and smiled.

"Told you I got th-"

And then they were spinning forward, a shot crashing against their tail. Lights flashed red inside the ship. Keith pulled from a lever, attempting to slow down the turning, but the ship kept spiraling out of control in the vacuum-

-and right outside the outer barrier of the fleet. The moment the ship slowed down enough for Lance's eyes to focus on the outside they saw the barrier close. The light of a nearby moon reflected against it, the Galra ships flying close but unable to cross though. They wouldn't be able to pass until someone ordered the barrier to go down, and Lance wasn't even sure the Galra fleet knew their general was dead now.

"-I got it," Keith breathed out as the ship finally slowed to a stop.

Lance snorted, and soon both were giggling uncontrollably. Tears prickled at the corner of Lance's eyes as Keith turned their ship around and set route to the nearest not-Galra outpost.

"I think Pappk is far enough from Balmera to avoid most unwanted attention. Do you think you'll be able to contact the Altea fleet there?"

"Yeah, sure. I think uncle Coran still got a couple contacts there." Lance undid his belt and walked up to Keith. "Is the ship’s fuel going to last all the way?"

"It should. The fleet was going to use this same line of ships to get to Balmera, and there's no easy stops on the way there."

"True." Lance let out a deep breath and sat on the arm of the pilot chair. Keith glanced up at him with an eyebrow up, but he didn't say anything. "I can't believe we made it out of there. Allura is going to lose her mind when she sees me again."

Keith hummed. He was running some diagnostics in the ship. As far as Lance could read, they were coming up clear, and he relaxed as much as his current perch allowed him. Soon after, Keith set warp mode and moved to close unnecessary processes. Lance deemed it safe to continue talking then.

"What about you, Keith? Where are you planning to go?"

Keith's fingers stuttered over the commands.

"I'm, uh, not sure." He glanced up at Lance again. "I need to join the Blades again, but they won't be easy to find. With how long I've been gone, they've probably changed bases at least twice.”

"Ah, right. Slippery bunch, they are. Not that I can blame them." Lance turned towards Keith more. "And what are you going to do if you don't find them? What would you like to do?"

Keith visibly flinched, his hands halting over the controls. He didn’t answer.

“Keith?”

“Does it really matter what I want to do?” His voice was smaller than Lance had ever heard it. “Not a lot of places are going to accept a runaway Galra with no connections. I’m hardly a lot awaited prince.”

“What are you even talking about?” Lance slapped a hand against Keith’s chest. “Anyone would be happy to have you with them. You’re strong, you’re hot, you’re a  _ fan-fucking-tastic pilot _ . Entire planets will be fighting for you in no time at all.”

“You think I’m hot?”

Lance would have to stop calling himself a diplomat if he kept making slips like that.

“Ah, um. It’s not a lie, is it?” Lance smiled awkwardly. He adjusted his seat, prepared to sprint as far from Keith as the small space of the cockpit would allow him, but Keith held onto his arm, effectively stopping him from doing so. “...Keith?”

Keith’s eyes seemed to search for something in Lance’s face. They softened soon after, having seemingly found it.

“Were you serious when you said  _ anyone  _ would be happy to have me with them?” 

“I- yes. You’re amazing.”

“So are you.” Lance opened his mouth to speak, but Keith blocked the words by putting a finger to his lips. “Let me talk. You’re strong and resourceful. You’ve been fighting an entire empire on your own for so long, without anyone’s support. You’ve saved my life how many times now?”

“We wouldn’t have gotten out without your piloting-”

“I would have never piloted anything ever again without you,” Keith insisted, leaning close. He was half kneeling on his seat now, his head level with Lance’s.

Floating in the vacuum of space, Lance couldn’t think of anything existing beyond Keith’s warmth next to him and the gravity pulling them together.

He let himself fall.

He moved away an instant later, but Keith’s lips followed, reaching Lance’s own and turning the kiss softer, wetter, warmer, dizzying until Lance lost his balance and had to lean fully against Keith. His arms found their way around Keith’s shoulders, and when Keith broke apart to breathe in Lance’s lips found their way down Keith’s chin and neck.

“Lance.”

Lance stilled, worried he’d overstepped at some point between the fourth and fifth kiss, but when he tried to pull away Keith held him close.

“Keith?”

“I love you. And there’s nowhere in this galaxy I want to be, other than by your side.”

Lance grinned. “My family is going to adore you.”

“And you?”

“I already do.”


End file.
